Subject: This Means War!
by TheDoctor'sStrawberry
Summary: Sherlock and John have a dart gun battle, and John posts about it on his blog later on. I recommend that you read "This Means War" by Lady Silverbird beforehand, but it can stand alone.


**A/N: So, this is shamelessly based off of "This Means War!" by my friend Lady Silverbird. We came up with the idea together, this is just kind of my take on it. My initial suggestion was a nerf gun fight, and it escalated rather quickly.**

_Subject: This Means War!_

_Just a glance at my blog will tell you that Sherlock is a genius. You can ask him any random question, and he'd be able to tell you the answer plus almost an entire book's worth of further information; that is, of course, if he thinks that your question is intelligent enough to be worthy of more than three or four words. A man like Sherlock, you'd expect to know everything. So, believe me, it should be quite a shock when I tell you that I taught Sherlock a lesson today._

_It all started this afternoon. I got home from work to find the flat empty; well, I thought it was empty until I saw his coat and scarf. Even though he never sleeps, I check his bedroom, just in case. To be thorough, I checked my room._

_As I had looked around, I ended up back in the living room, looking in no particular direction, yelling at him to come out. His response? Three darts in my back. Yes, you read that right. This insane man rigged up a weapon using a paintball gun and darts. He said, later on, that he'd gotten bored of shooting at the wall and thought that a "toy" gun fight would be fun. Sherlock, if you're reading this over my shoulder like I'm sure you are, you need to re-define the word "toy."_

_So, anyway, I pull out the darts and yell at him to get his skinny arse out of his hiding spot. Another dart, this time in my arm. I yelled a few things that I shouldn't repeat on this blog. So I finally spot him, wearing those glasses that you wear at shooting ranges and crouched in a ridiculous attempt at a sniper crouch. "Your weapon is on the chair, John. Arm yourself."_

_Of course, he doesn't listen to my reasonable shout of his insanity, stating that Mummy Holmes had him tested as a child. That may have been a reference to one of the shows on the telly that Mrs. Hudson got him hooked on… some American show about scientists._

_Now, I hope that you, my readers, have enough common sense to realize that it's not a good idea to put an ex-soldier in a flat with weapons and tell him to fight you. About an hour later, after I had maneuvered behind him and shot him a few times in his arse (as I'm writing, I can see him fidgeting with discomfort on the sofa out of the corner of my eye). _

_So, he finally surrendered. After that, I looked around and saw the damage. Darts. EVERYWHERE. I had to pluck darts for about two and a half minutes before I had enough space to sit on the couch and rest._

_And now, Mrs. Hudson has just come in to ask about the commotion. After taking in our flat (which resembles a porcupine now), she is saying that she's not cleaning after us… yet she's making us tea as she says it. God bless her. Anyways, I guess this is my cue to finish up this blog and start cleaning up the flat._

_Oh, and Sherlock. I'm going to think of a retaliation soon. Be prepared. This. Means. War._

**Anonymous**

I don't need to re-define the word "toy." You do.

Congratulations on finding my little allusion. Good job, you're improving. Although, I did notice that you left out a great deal of dialogue, especially from my part. You're trying to make me sound mad, aren't you?

As to your threat of retaliation, it will take more subtlety than you have to make me unaware of an attack. Personally, I enjoyed the experience, minus the incident at the end. Perhaps if we tried another time with foam darts?

-SH

_Two days ago_

**Anonymous**

Really, John? You told Mycroft on me. How very juvenile. And now I've got a meeting with Mummy to discuss being tested again. Ridiculous, really. I am a high-functioning sociopath. I don't need to make an appointment with a psychologist to know that.

And the least thing to do is talk to me. If you can't civilly converse, at least nag at me to eat, or tell me to stop playing my violin at three in the morning. The skull isn't half as entertaining as you are, and I have a feeling that Mrs. Hudson is going to take it away again anyway.

-SH

_One day ago_

**Mycroft**

Actually, Sherlock, I read about the incident on the blog and told Mummy. John didn't tell me personally.

And, according to my people, John has been picking up a few extra shifts at work, probably due to the new blonde intern that's started work there. On top of that, there's been an outbreak of colds recently, and it wouldn't surprise me if he stopped talking to prevent agitation to his throat.

Aren't you supposed to be the observant one? Please stop hassling the good doctor.

-MH

P.S. Your appointment is Friday at a quarter past three. I will drag you there if I have to, so save me the trouble and just go.

_Twelve hours ago_

**John**

Mycroft, you're half right. I do have a cold, but the reason that I'm picking up extra shifts is to pay for the damage that his experiments do to the flat. Thank you for your support, though. I didn't know that you read my blog.

And Sherlock, why don't you try apologizing like a normal human being, sociopath aside? Then I might consider convincing Mrs. Hudson to give the skull back. As soon as I get my voice back, I'll start nagging again, I promise. In fact, I'll do it right now. It's perfectly obvious that it's you writing your comments, especially since you sign them. Why don't you just make an account and have it already have your name signed at the top? And you'd better go to that appointment!

Feel better now?

_Six hours ago_

**Anonymous**

All right, John. I've learned my lesson. I promise to warn you before I attack next time. In case you are wondering, I'm not apologizing so that I can get the skull back. I already know that it's in the third drawer in her dresser.

Yes, the nagging makes me feel better. The flat is too quiet without it. I will, however, continue to post the way that I always do. I could always post to the actual blog, pretending to be you, if you truly want me to post with an account. Since you've both decided that I need therapy, I will go to that appointment on the condition that John comes with me.

-SH

_Three hours ago_

**John**

Closest-thing-that-I'm-getting-to-an-apology accepted. I'll fetch the skull in the morning and not ask how you know exactly where it is.

If the flat's too quiet, then watch telly or something. Maybe you can show me that American show that you referenced. I should be better by tomorrow.

_Five minutes ago_

**Anonymous**

Thank you, John.

That show isn't on at the moment, but there's a movie based on those old detective stories… What was the detective's name? Benedict something? And his sidekick, was his name Martin?

John, can you please hand me my tea?

-SH

_Three minutes ago_

**John**

I remember those old books. The detective's name was Benedict Cumberbatch, and his partner was called Martin Freeman. That sounds ok to watch.

And I will not hand you your bloody tea! It's less than a foot away from your hand, get it yourself.


End file.
